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I love my Jesus
who saved my benighted soul,
I love being loved and caress
by His arms, lo and behold,
I love my Jesus,
do you love yours?

Oceans might be
so shallow or so deep,
but He can always
distinguish my tears.
I love my Jesus.

Terrors reign the night
while the moon is asleep,
but He engraved courage
in my heart for my fears.
I love my Jesus.

I wandered the woods
and found the light,
and those winding roads
led me back to Him.

I love my Jesus
who wiped my tears away,
I have loved Him,
and nothing compares
to the love I found in me.

I was forgiven to the core,
I love my Jesus,
do you love yours?
All Rights Reserved © 2014
I feel guilty in hot spikes
Like I might be doing something I ought not want to
Or that by focusing on me you may feel I forgot you
That by allowing you to play in the back ground of my active brain
For day
After day
After day
I am not fixating on the way you say my name
Or remembering all the times you came
To save the day, I am not reaching out to touch you
In a physical way
And I don’t let myself feel sad with no distractions
I just fade and detach  when guilt feels like
Fractures.
Then I got to thinking
About myself and what I want and
I thought maybe we are perfect,
Perfectly in step with who we ought to be,
i,m moving,
And with you gone in all this change I felt
I was leaving
But i,m dreaming
Of standing on my own two legs
and of all the sweet things you always say
about my heart and my head and
that I accomplish great things,
you would be proud of me.
I’m just making my own place
My own bit of sunshine, my own oasis
So I can pull you in
And face it
All the bright light all my mistakes
Our first date and late nights,
Holding your hand and chasing loose dreams
Like pretty butterfly wings.
Like you run when we race
For the last of the swings,
I love you, and suddenly it seems like
Moving toward you and moving toward me
Are actually quite possibly the very same things.
I have dreams where I'm punching a wall, But my hands don't hurt and there's no hole at all, I'll punch and no one will hear, I punch, but only feel a greater fear, No blood or noise, So I pull back with poise and strike again and again, But nothing but a bent wrist and a straighshoot of sadness lingers in the air, My hands are fine and so is the wall, the window and the door, They aren't cut or hurt, only my pride bruised on the floor, I can't have this dream anymore
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